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"I am not ashamed to 
confess that I am 
ignorant of what I do 
not know." 


Cover Design: STEVE QUINN 73 

Vol. LXX 

SPRING 1971 

No. 2 

Member Agricultural College Magazines, Associated 





Typing Staff 

Rich Polgar 
Tony Piotrowski 
Rich Carver 

Art Staff 

Steve Quinn 


Bob Bosenberg 
Rich Carver 
Gary Miller 
Rich Polgar 

Business Staff 

Bob Bosenberg 
Gary Miller 
Rich Polgar 
Tom Pyle 


Bruce Sterling Baessler 71 Howard Mandel 74 

Ray D. Blew 74 Tom Martin 72 

Luis Castaner 74 Gary Miller 72 

Cicero Steve Quinn 73 

John Geiger 71 Kenneth Weaver 71 

Chris Klipp 72 Dillon Williams 72 


Dr. George Keys Dr. John Mertz 

The GLEANER is published twice during the school year by the students of 
Delaware Valley College of Science and Agriculture, Doylestown, Pennsylvania. 
The GLEANER is a student publication, and the opinions expressed herewith are 
not necessarily those of the GLEANER staff or the Administration. Neither the 
College nor the staff will assume responsibility for plagiarism unknowingly oc- 
curring within. 



This issue of the Gleaner is dedicated to two people who have 
given themselves to helping others and have added much to the health 
of the college. 

The college nurses, Mrs. Claudia Cornell and Mrs. Elizabeth Potts 
may be found by anyone — especially the hypochondriacs — in the 
nurses' office during any of the normal office hours. 

Mrs. Cornell, although a native of Brevard, N. C. and a graduate 
of nursing school from Brady Memorial Hospital in Atlanta, Ga., resides 
in New Britain with her husband Edward, and two sons, Dan and 
Randy. She has worked at the college since March 30, 1965, and also 
relieves nurses in the Doylestown Hospital Accident Ward. The Central 
Bucks Registered Nurses and the New Britain Baptist Church both 
enjoy her avid participation in their activities when Mrs. Cornell is not 
at the hospital or college. 

Mrs. Potts is from Philadelphia and attended the nursing school 
in Germantown Hospital, Philadelphia. Mrs. Potts is D. V. C.'s nurse 
in residence as she lives in the Barness Hall apartment. She has seen 
Aggies get sick and better, and quite a few at that, as she has been 
a D.V.C. nurse since September 11, 1956. 

Her interests — besides the students at D.V.C, are her dog and 
her special hideaway cabin in Canada where she spends the summer 

The staff of the Gleaner is proud to dedicate this issue to both 
Potts and Mrs. Cornell for their invaluable help and motherly 


— John geiger 

When i was young i loved walking cool river banks 
soft spring mud leaving traces of my traveling. 

When i was young i loved the empty beach 
warm summer sand clinging to my clothes. 

As i grew i loved the pastel forest 

the dried autumn leaves tumbling down as i tread past. 

Now i am older and i love you; 

love ... as i did the soft spring mud 
summer sands autumn leaves 

Each is alone and can never be mixed 

never forgotten always treasured. 

The noise of people is gone 

no chatter of gears, screeching of brakes, 
hum of traffic. 

Instead of leering superstructures, 

the majesty of the forest encompasses 
your body. 

The soft mist resting upon the mirror of water. 
The diffusing sunlight penetrating my mind. 

A mind now void of the noises of physical life. 

So the other self exists. 

It now dodges through your mind, staring from a dark 

Leering in the open spaces. 


Birth .... death .... alone together? 
These questions stare at me 

pinch and probe 

torment and tranquilize. 
Alone — one, with no other. 
Together — two or more function as a unit. 

How is man to be? 

I thought alone the strong rock. 

Together a mass of sliding pebbles. 


— Ray D. Blew 

Late evenings, 

Wondering, after work is done, 
If I should possess the sun 
In the early morning, 

Would I become entangled 
In a golden coppice? 

Or could I struggle through, 

Laboring hard 

And wearing the scars, 

That my touchstone advised me to do? 

— Bruce Sterling Baessler 

Another down, 

how many more to go? 

For some, 

They'll never see another. 

One day you can 

all come see me 

in my silk lined home. 

Don't cry for me 

for I've lived in a time 

of greatness. 

I'll never fight a war, 
nor know starvation. 
So don't cry for me. 
Rejoice that you still 
live in this greatness. 
So when I die 
drink a cup of wine 
in a toast to all who live. 



— Dillon Williams 

Tonight I sat down at the table 

To eat my supper cold. 

Across the way I saw a man 

Who looked as if he could have told me who I was. 

I stared at him like he was strange 

Ignorance is old. 

I got up from my chair 

To go out in the rain. 

To see if I had gotten a card 

Maybe a letter or refrain from a friend. 

It was cold out there in wonderland 

But who was I to blame. 

By the lake I sang a song 

To shatter the mirror in my mind. 

But even the water showed a wrinkled face 

Like a man too old for time or lollipops. 

Too afraid to feel myself 

I turned a victim of manunkind. 

s.CHnsTOPtfea, q^viw 



— Dillon Williams 

Over the hill and down the path 

Over the silky aftermath 

Of trampling feet. 

Further on we meet 

Queen Ann who waves her lace 

And blushes when we ask her grace 

As we mount the quarry wall 

And harken her majestic call. 

Now standing on the grassy ledge 

First glimpse of emerald lake, where sledge 

Once tried to drain 

The precious lime from out the vein. 

But lime has given way to jewel. 

No more shall the worker's tool 

Drive the peg into the wall 

To crack the rock and make it fall. 

Instead the gentle people come 

To escape man's mortal requiem. 

Onward, downward, passed the earth 

Finding peace at priceless worth. 

Here, naked sat the man 

Staring deep with head in hands 

Watching colors bright and bold 

Hue of silver, blue, and gold 

Swimming in a lake of green 

Secluded, peaceful, and serene. 

We watched as youth with bosom bare 

Stroked her long, brown, flowing hair. 

She was floating on a raft 

While McDuff, the dog, watched fore and aft. 

A black haired scottie in the sun 

With no other goal in life but fun. 

The Living Eighteenth Century 


Photo Credit 

A warm glowing fire, the twinkling of candlelight and the steady 
whorling of a spinning wheel transforming flax fibers into linen thread, 
all reminiscent of a time long ago, but still not forgotten. The aroma of 
fresh hearth-baked bread intermingled with the pungent odor of herbs 
drying by the fire are all present in a house of the eighteenth century. 
Houses such as these are not only present in Williamsburg, Virginia, 
or Sturbridge, Massachusetts, but exist even in the town of Doylestown. 

The house being referred to is the home of Mr. and Mrs. Charles 
Mitchell of 39 Mercer Avenue. Mrs. Mitchell is the proprietor of an 
antique shop in the Guild, along Route 202 and deals largely in primi- 
tives of iron, tin and wood. Mr. Mitchell is employed by Univac and 
for hobbies enjoys tinsmithing, blacksmithing, carpentry, and clock 
repair, all of which enable him to help his wife with her shop. 


Their home is a living part of the eighteenth century having been 
built in 1768 by Aaron Worthington for his wife and family. It was a four- 
room stone house with a loft and adjoining lean-to, housing a nine-foot 
walk-in fireplace. By 1772 the Worthington family had increased in 
number and they found it necessary to build a log cabin addition to 
the house containing a keeping room and additional loft. The house 
passed through many families and finally in 1926 the house was pur- 
chased by Dr. Mercer. He completely restored it using only lumber 
and hardware of the period. The slate roof was replaced by one of 
cement covered with copper. Then a few years later the log cabin was 
enclosed with stone in order to preserve it. Although this is not the 
oldest house in Doylestown, it is the only one in which the outside 
dimensions haven't been changed in nearly two hundred years. 

The original charm of the house is retained by the nine-foot walk-in 
fireplace with its six-foot flagstone hearth and the bee-hive oven. This 
is only one of the three remaining fireplaces in the home. All the rooms 


have the exposed, hand-hewn beams and the random-width oak floor- 
ing. Furnishings are mostly antiques of the late eighteenth and early 
nineteenth centuries. One piece of interest is the large pine pewter 
cupboard, housing a magnificent collection of rare American and 
English pewter. There is also a beautiful Pennsylvania Dutch cupboard 
with the old blue buttermilk stain, which houses a collection of whale 
oil lamps and handless cups and saucers. Authenticity is carried as 
far as to use the rope supports for the antique rope beds. 

The house is more than just a shell of rock. Over two hundred 
years ago, the colonist hand hewed the beams, moved the earth and 
stuffed the seams with hair and mud. It was hard work and well appre- 
ciated after completion. Now only a few people realize what a house 
such as this represents; remnants of yesteryear and time when man 
earned his bread by the sweat of his brow. I think it great that a house 
such as this still remains to remind us of the time when man lived and 
worked with nature rather than against it. 

— Luis F. Castaner 

It's always there, seen and 

To feelings dull and to feelings 
keen. ^. 

It grows and festers into many 
parts. ^^^ ^^ 

It reaches the bones, it infects 
the heart. .^ 


Like a disease its symptoms are 

As love is to GOD this was to 
Cain. ^ 

Many men have died and they knew 
not why; 

Its trademarks are violence and 
the common lie. 

It exists in men great, it lives 
in men small; 

It makes strong men weak and 
weak men fall. m» 

It has no shape, nor has it 

All say it's terrible and ask 
what to do; 

The answer my friends, 
I leave to you. 




— Chris Klipp 

The sunrise — 

The night is passed! 

The moonrise — 

The day is passed! 

Another day — 
Is life too fast? 

— Bruce Sterling Baessler 

If I could sketch, 

I'd love to copy this tree 

or even take a picture 

but a look is all I get 

for I lack in all these things. 

Now it's in my mind 

and hands 

a sketch 

no pen can make. 

11 - 

2/6/71 a Robin! 

— Bruce Sterling Baessler 

A red breast 

flitted in front of me 

alone in a paradise 

perched on a 

dormant branch. 

Singing his song to 

proclaim the 

coming of life 

to the cold glaze of ice. 


My mind is in a time of deep concern, 
Of a world filled with trouble and hate. 
It's hard for one to think and learn, 
And not to worry of his fate! 

Think of things, that just might please, 
That will put troubles to rest, 
It's hard to get your mind at ease, 
War or freedom — Which is best? 

— Chris Klipp 


— John geiger 

the brown muck flows by: 

the pungent fumes of decaying minds 
burns your nostrils 

the clinging gray mass purges your gonads, 
grabbing for higher possession. 

it runs deeper faster its foulness now 

shrouds your body. 

you tread harder stand taller the rotting 

matter reaches higher. 

it is reaching clawing your eyes see 

only dark your ears hear no sound 

nostrils draw no breath. 

you are now lost: 

and your mind rots in the compost of 
stagnant thought. 



— Howard Mandel '74 

I'm going on a ship. Do you want to come along? 


Here we go, I know you'll like the voyage. 

See the fish and the waves and the stars and Mars and 

Saturn and 

ladies and gentlemen welcome aboard 
the good ship. To your right 
Would you like to swing on a star? 
Carry moonbeams home in a jar, 
And be better off than you are? 
Mary had a little lamb, with fleece, 
as white as snow. It falls right down and 
breaks off his crown and they couldn't 
put him back together again. 

While the phasing stops to saunder onto Tonya. 
Tonya on Tahnya. It's only a place in my mind, 
but it's as real as reality. 

Just to dream — a land where people care enough 

not to care. Where we don't carry colors and 

a flag means something again; 

Just a smile is all we need — we know without 

words — too far from reality to be true — 

What a Fantasy. 

Or, would you like to swing on a star? 
You would be better off than you are! 
Or would you rather be a Ram? 

- 14 - 

— Bruce Sterling Baessler 

Who can condemn 


or thousands 

who went north? 

Didn't they say 

and not maybe . . . ? 
Did they run 

to greener pastures 
to chew the cud 
of freedom? 
To see a spring of 
beauty rather 
than fear. 

— John Geiger 

When I was young 

My block was the world and I knew every continent. 

I could stalk the tigers 
Or straddle the oceans. 

Now I've grown small. 

I can't cross the oceans 

And I hide from the animals of the jungle. 



— Dillon Williams 

I looked at you with a grin on my face 

Shamefully I tried to state my case. 

As the train slowly pulled away 

I whispered what I had to say, 

Not knowing if you heard me 

And wondering if you'd try to see 

Things my way. I wondered if you'd understand 

And return someday to take my hand. 

I waited for an answer to my plea. 

A short time passed and I received 

A letter telling me I was not rejected 

But still a friend not to be neglected 

Or put away upon a shelf. In return 

I told of all the wrong that burns 

Within my heart. Praying for secure repose 

I waited patiently. But I heard only echoes — 

My longest days have turned to years 

And all my hopes became my fears. 


— Bruce Sterling Baessler 

The mounting climax 

produced a land of 

pulsating white clouds 

rhythmatically spraying over the land, 

while crystal fairies 

dance in the tree tops, 

as winter comes 

its final time. 




— Dillon Williams 

I'd like to go out to a fresh plowed field 
And feel the cool earth beneath my feet; 
Where once the massive tractor wheeled 
To pull the plow that has peeled 
The rye to make ready for the wheat. 

In the early morning I would take the walk. 

With naked toes I'd comb the grasses wet with dew 

And listen to the blue jay squawk, 

Perched upon pokeberry stalk, 

Watching old give way to new. 

Man must learn the lesson of the farmer and his field. 
To prosper, each must render partially his gain 
Rejuvenating earth, assuring yield 
Before it is too late and our fate sealed 
And all the earth a desert once again. 

Man has used the most of nature's store 
Draining all the blood from out her veins. 
Still we thirst and vainly cry for more 
Digging further in her core 
Until nothing else remains. 

- 19 


— Gary Miller '72 

Finally the time had come! The chance of a lifetime 
had presented itself and could not be denied. 

For the middle week of November I was to be the 

sole possessor of peace and happiness at a cabin in Ver- 
mont. The week before I had transported all my equip- 
ment to the camp; tape recorder, typewriter, and my 
precious notes that had taken so many years to collect. 

All I had ever needed was the time, the freedom from 
distractions of my wife and children to finally put all my 
{? work together into the book that I was afraid someone 
else would publish before me. 

The camp was beautifully situated in the shadows of 
| Mount Mansfield, inaccessible to all intruders, except those 
who dared to attempt the treacherous journey by foot from 
2> the nearest road seven miles away. 

So it was, on November 13, that I bade goodbye to | 
; my family at the airport and flew to Berlin, Vermont where 
I obtained a ride to the place u here I was to begin my trek. 

I found the camp in much the same condition as I § 
had left it the neck before. The cold winter winds had | 
uprooted several of the trees surrounding the cabin and 
one such victim of the gale8 had narrowly escaped crushing 

the cabin in its downward flight. 


After entering the cabin I made enthusiastic measures 
to prepare all my equipment for the tasks of the iveek 
ahead. I carefully went about setting up the electrical 
equipment and setting out ashtrays, pencils, paper, and 
other incidentals that I thought I would need during the 
course of my writing. After a hearty lunch, I sat down with 
an optimistic thought that at last I was to accomplish my 

Much to my own surprise, all went very smoothly. 
The only noise ivas that of the echoing of the typewriter. 
By the end of the week I had impatiently repacked 
and teas starting down the mountain with my finished 

The weather was harsh; the sky was grey; the wind, M 
bitter and cold. The air was damp with the smell of fresh 
fallen snow. 

The snow fell with a blinding quickness as I trudged 
on through the storm. Finally, when I could bear the cold 
no longer, I sought the shelter of a newly fallen tree. 

My feet and hands and ears had long since grown 
numb and I was weak from exhaustion. Slowly I closed 
my eyes as the white silent shroud of death loomed all 
around me. Clutching my manuscript to my breast, I fell 
into a deep sleep, with the one last prayer that my heart 
and mind had been understood in their efforts to achieve. 

-21 - 

— John geiger 

When i was small i went fishing every spring. 

Usually i just had fun, sometimes i caught a fish. 

He would splash silver water as i brought him to me, 
shining in the sunlight as i held him in the air. 

i never did have him for dinner, i had only memories of his 
hesitation as i put him back in his flowing world. 

i don't go fishing anymore, 

never seem to find the time or silvery water. 

i just like to let my thoughts have fun and play games. 

In springtime ideas are hooked and pulled from the deep 
waters of winter to shine in the sunlight. 

They start to grow and glimmer in the warm sun 

and then, as the fish, they hesitate and swim away. 


Sketch — Steve Quinn 


— Dillon Williams 

How beautiful the snow as twilight falls 
Each flake a diamond caped in ermine white; 
Fur lined arcs and angles small 
Reflecting fading rays of light. 

Crystal daggers hanging from the sparkling homes 
Suspended from the eves above my head, 
Waiting for the cold wind's icy groans 
To shatter wistful living into dead. 

How somnolent the winter wonderland 
When evening casts a peaceful spell; 
Forget nor disregard the devil's hand 
That melts the heavenly snow to hell. 


— Bruce Sterling Baessler 

The menorah is 

set afire, 

not nine lights 

but thousands 

of embers to fill the sky. 

How many will light the 


in worship of gods? 

Yet how few they are 
that see the candles 
lit for man 
by God. 


Something New 

Something new has happened 

to you. 

Leftover dreams have mistaken 
you for two. 

Once upon a time 

There was no question. 

Once you didn't take the time 

To mention 

what was new. 

Why do you call them all 
the last time? 

Now our own little world 
is only pastime. 

Once upon a time 

There was no question. 

Once you didn't take the time 

To mention 

what was new. 

— Ray D. Blew 



— Dillon Williams 

Why do people dream? 

Just to elude life 

To stay above the clouds 

Avoid the rain. 

I spend most of my life in a bubble. 

But it only bursts when I expect too much. 

If I could bathe in the sun 

And shower in the rain 

I wouldn't need to dream. 

But harmony is like the autumn leaves. 

— john geiger 

so it begins 

and so it shall end 

as it was so shall it be. 
life goes on in these riddles 
the paths diverge 
yet come together, 

trails meander 

yet follow straight, 
why must it be? who is to say? 

i am myself 

and so i shall be 

not as others, 
as I 



Factors Effecting The 
Respiration of Tree Fruits 


Historically respiration was referred to as the exchange of gases 
between an organism and its environment. (12) This was then divided 
into two processes, aerobic and anerobic. Presently respiration is de- 
fined as energy releasing reactions which involve the uptake of oxygen, 
i.e. aerobic. (10) Reactions which do not involve oxygen (anerobic) 
are referred to as fermentation. (10) 

While researching this treatise the term respiration climacteric was 
encountered quite frequently. There is apparently some confusion as 
to the meaning and usage of this term and/or concept. The following 
shall be an attempt to elucidate this concept and other terminology 
relevant to it: 

Respiration Intensity as 
measured by C0 2 evolution. 






# of days 

This chart may be referred to as respiratory climacteric or respira- 
tory index. The example used in the ensuing discussion will be apples, 
but similar graphs are true for most fruits except pears and citrus 

Segment A of the graph represents the C0 2 evolution of the fruit 
when it is mature; maturity being that state in the physiological devel- 
opment of the apple when physical cell expansion has terminated. 
Segment B represents the C0 2 evolution of the ripening stage of 
development. Ripening is the term representative for the breakdown 
of pectinaceous material into sugars. These sugars (mostly fructose) 
are the oxidized and consequently C0 2 evolution increases. (12) 
The point at which C0 2 evolution is greatest before its decline is re- 
ferred to as the climacteric peak, seen at the end of segment B. Seg- 
ment C then represents only a decrease in C0 2 evolution proportional 
to the concentration of the substrate. (12) Segment D is usually re- 
ferred to as senescence. Senescence literally means aging, and in 
fruits represents degradation of proteinaceous material into sugars. 

The above graph is representative and useful only for illustration. 


At ambient temperatures this process would gradually decrease, in the 
absence of micro-organisms, to a zero point of CO- evolution. (12) 
With these thoughts established, the paper shall proceed to examine 
the factors affecting respiration, and secondly deal similarly with 

Factors Affecting Respiration 

Respiration is the physical and chemical process by which an 
organism supplies its cells and tissues with oxygen needed for meta- 
bolism and relieves them of carbon dioxide. (11) This involves a great 
many complex steps, the chemical summation of which is usually 
represented thusly: 

C«H ia + 60, 



674,000 cal. 

While it is not important for this project to show the complexities of 
all the steps of respiration, it is beneficial to realize the basic steps 
of the Krebs Citric Acid Cycle. The complete cycle takes place in the 
mitocondria and is perhaps the most important cycle in the ripening 
and breakdown of fruits. The following is a simplified pathway for the 
oxidation of sugar via the Krebs Cycle: (10) 


Breakdowns and rearrangements not 
involving oxygen 



C.< compounds 

Oxaloacetic acid 

Succinic acid 





On carrier molecule coenzyme 
A "active acetate" 

Citric acid 

Ketoglutanc acid 



The respiratory climacteric of apples is primarily the result of COj 
production of Krebs Cycle. Hulme et al. (7) proposed that the climac- 
teric of apples may be a result of a turnover of lipids which results in 
ethylene production. It was also proposed that there are four sequen- 
tial enzyme systems developed in reaching the climacteric peak. They 
are as follows: (7) 

1. Increased incorporation of acetate into lipid. 

2. Enzyme production of ethylene. 

3. Incorporation of labeled valine into protein. 

4. Rapid decarboxylation of added malate. 

Theoretically all of these systems can be prevented by the presence 
of inhibitors of RNA and protein synthesis. (7) 

Sugar is not the only product which can act as a substrate to be 
oxidized. There are also organic acids, and fats which are substrates 
at ambient temperatures. More recently Fidler and North (5) have 
determined that sorbitol is another substrate at cold temperatures of 
less than 3°C. 

At ambient temperatures one can, by determining the respiratory 
quotient (RQ- which is based on moles C0 2 evolved/moles 2 ab- 
sorbed), ascertain the substrate that is being oxidized, by comparing 
the values to the following standards: (10) 


CcHioOo + 60o > 6CO-, + 6H-.0 = 1 

Organic acid: 

C 4 H 6 O g + 30o > 4COo + 3H,0 = 1 .33 


Fat (tripalmitin) 


2C- )1 H 98 (J + 1450., > 102CO- + 98 hUO = 0.70 


The fertility level of the soil upon which the fruit is grown influences 
the rate of respiration of stored fruit particularly with respect to the 
nitrogen level. Blanpied (2) reported that high nitrogen applications in- 
crease respiration but does not change the date of the preclimacteric 
minimum in Mcintosh. From this it was concluded that optimum pre- 
climacteric minimum is controlled externally rather than being controlled 
endogenously. Letham (8) also reported that high nitrogen applications 
increased respiration in comparison to respiration rates obtained with 
no fertilizer, complete fertilizers, or applications of phosphorus or 
potassium alone. Blanpied (3), after seven years of research also de- 
termined that while vigor, nutrient level, etc. influenced the storage 
quality and condition of the fruit, they did not alter the climacteric 


Extensive research has been done with varying concentrations of 
gas, variable temperatures, and their interrelationships. It has long 
been known that raising temperatures from C C. to 50°C. increases 
the respiration rates proportionately. It was also known that increasing 
the oxygen concentration did not affect the respiratory rate significantly. 
On the other hand, increasing the concentration of carbon dioxide was 
found to lower the respiratory rate. Using this information Kidd and 
West, as reported by Stiles, (21) began a series of extensive experi- 
ments that led to the development of our present day controlled at- 
mosphere storage. With the advent of C. A. storage and M. A. storage 
(modified atmosphere) there has been much research done concerning 
such things as low temperature breakdown (L. T. B.) and the effect of 
fermentation on the degradation of stored fruit. Fiddler (4) reported 
that there was less incidence of LTB in air storage than in either 
M. A. or C. A. storage. It was also noted that in C. A. and M. A. the 
incidence of LTB could be reduced by removing the fruit from 0°C. 
and holding them at 18 : C. for three days before returning them to 3°C. 
C. A. storage. The fruit was removed from storage after 52 days. Fiddler 
also reported that the CO- evolution of the warmed fruit dropped 7 c.c./ 
10kg./hr. (i.e. it was less than fruit held at a constant temperature). 
A similar drop was noted on fruit given the warm treatment at 85 days, 
while fruit that was moved from C. directly to 3°C. showed an in- 
crease in respiration intensity. As senescence progresses, oxidative 
metabolism decreases and an increasing amount of CO- evolved is 
the result of fermentation. Using this information as a basis for experi- 
mentation McLean et al. (9) found that by forcing fermentation on 
some fruits, via nitrogen flushing, for as long as 108 hours, the fruit 
lost its ability to return to aerobic respiration. This premature and 
solely anerobic atmosphere also reduced the capacity for fermentation 
consequently retarding senescence. 

Light, irradiation, and mechanical stimulation are other factors 
which may effect respiration. Light may do so in that it causes a de- 
composition of organic acids resulting in production of more CO:-. (12) 
Mechanical stimulation and wounding cause an increase in respiration 
intensity. The reason for this is not clearly understood but it has been 
noted by Hopkins, as reported in Stiles (12), that there was a correla- 
tion between wounding and an increase in sugar content. Irradiation 
is a relatively new field of research where there has been some 
encouraging results. Guelfat-Reich (6) reported that by using large 
dosages (400 krads) on pears harvested before the climeractic rise 
he could induce vast increases in respiration. It was also reported in 
the same report that irradiation inhibited the softening of pears during 
shelf life. The treatment however did not retard senescence and con- 
sequently the taste of the pears was revolting. 


With such advances as irradiation and new technology such as 
the Mettler and Belloros compressors, reported by Boeke (1), the 
future looks very promising for the control of respiration and ripening. 


1. Boeke, J. E. 1968. Evolution of Post-Harvest Trends of Respiration Rates and 
Softening of Apples and Tomatoes. Meded. Landb Hogesch., Wageningen. 
68 (15): 1-89. 

2. Blanpied, G. D. 1968. Some Observations of the Respiratory Preclimeractic 
Minimum in Mcintosh Apple Fruits. Proc. Amer. Soc. Host. Sci. 92: 726-732. 

3. Blanpied, G. D. 1969. A Study of the Relationship Between Optimum Harvest 
Dates For Storage and the Respiratory Climeractic Rise in Apple Fruits. Amer. 
Soc. Hort. Sci. J. 94: 177-179. 

4. Fiddler, J. C. and C. J. North. 1968. The Effect of Conditions of Storage on the 
Respiration of Apples: III. The Effect of Modulation of Temperature on the 
Respiration of Cox's Orange Pippin Apple, and on the Extent of Low Tempera- 
ture Injury. J. Hort. Sci. 43: 421-428. 

5. Fiddler, J. C. and C. J. North. 1968. The Effect of the Conditions of Storage on 
the Respiration of Apples: IV. Changes in Concentration of Possible Substrates 
of Respiration, as Related to Production of Carbon Dioxide and Uptake of 
Oxygen by Apples at Low Temperature. J. Hort. Sci. 43: 429-439. 

6. Guelfat-Reich, S. 1969. Changes in the Keeping Quality of Spadona Pears After 
Irradiation. J. Hort. Sci. 44: 293-301. 

7. Hulme, A. C, et. al. 1968. Metabolic Changes in Excised Fruit Tissue: IV. 
Changes Occuring in Dises of Apple Peel During the Development of The 
Respiration Climeractic. Plant Physiol. 43: 1154-1161. 

8. Letham, D. S. 1969. Influence of Fertilizers Treatment on Apple Fruit Composition 
and Physiology. Aust. J. Ag. Res. 20: 1073-85. 

9. McLean, D. C. et. al. 1969. Effects of Cyclic Anaerobiosis on Pome Fruits. Amer. 
Soc. Hort. Sci. J. 94: 221-223. 

10. Steward, F. C. 1966. The Release of Energy Respiration in About Plants. Addison- 
Wesley, Mass. 57-74. 

11. Steward, F. C. 1959. Transpiration and Water Economy of Plants in Plant Phy- 
siology a Treatise. Academic Press, N. Y. Vol. II: 607-709. 

12. Stiles, W. and W. Leach, 1960. Respiration in Plants. John Wiley and Sons Inc., 
N. Y. 

-31 - 

Crime Prejudice War 

— john geiger 

America — take your defecation elsewhere 
Is there no thought, no reason? 

Is our purpose to destroy? our life to waste? 

Man is born of love raised to hate. 

My mind is a dung heap a collection of human 


America — take your war and yourself. 

take back your hate your greed your dirt 
it no longer belongs to me. 

vomit your laws as rotten flesh. 

retch on your justice as stagnant waste. 

reject your pious intellect. 


Sketch — Steve Quinn 



— Howard Mandel '74 

The room is much brighter, 
But the darkness still 
Blinds our eyesight, 
Compels our will. 

We are brothers! 
We aren't wrong — 
Working together 
Just to build a song. 

We wait, we wonder 
When we will be together- 
Searching for the dawn, 
The beginning of a day. 

Come together Children. 
Just open the door. 
The darkness will vanish, 
There's no need for more. 

We can make it 
If we only care. 
United together 
If we only dare. 



The world is filled with love and hurt, 
Earth is only grains of dirt. 
Folks black or white, red or yellow 
Who's to choose the honest fellow? 

We all believe that might is right, 
And watch for shadows in the night, 
Is this the way that man should live? 
Just take, receive and never give? 

— Chris Klipp 

These lines, though strange in word and phrase, 

Describe the world in many ways, 

Including rich and also poor, 

Just look and see — out your back door! 


Bring Myself Around 

— Ray D. Blew 

Sometimes I wonder 
If I should say goodbye 
To all the world. 

Living for life 

Becomes a shallow dream 

When dreams are spoiled. 

One second 

Before the time is right, 
I stop to wonder, 

Would I ever try to bring myself around 
to asking you. 

The next thing to do 

Is to make the first move. 

It's do or die. 

Would I ever try to bring myself around .... 

to asking you. 

— Bruce Sterling Baessler 

Waiting patiently 

for your smile 

the minutes 

go by too fast. 

Where are you? 

Will you come? 

I wait for the warmth of 

your smile, 

for now 

that's all 

we can share. 



— Dillon Williams 

At the break of dawn 

A flock of geese wing towards the North 

Returning from the South with spring on their wings, 

Driving winter back into the clouds. 

Their gray wings close together weave a shroud 

That covers deep the winter's icy sting, 

Smothering the Old Man of the North 

Assuring spring his last breath has been drawn. 

Something in their systems tells the time 

Like a clock that never needs a hand. 

They journey with the changes of the seasons 

Delaying time directed by their flight. 

Now the geese fly almost out of sight — 

I wonder if they have ever thought of treason — 

Not ushering the spring's return to land 

Nor sowing sprouting seeds of thyme. 



A simple mind of a little boy, 
A scream of fear — a broken toy! 
Though showing age, his world is young, 
With no control of mind or tongue. 

This man the simple things will please, 
As butterflies and tall strong trees. 
His life has been a hardened path, 
With distant fears and constant wrath. 

What caused this man to be as such? 

To live so long and miss so much? 

Chris Klipp 

Sketch — Steve Quinn 


Alone in Autumn 

In the autumn leaves 
I see a burning fire. 
In the stillness of the pond 
I see my own desire. 

As the mountains that lie 
Half-buried in the mist, 
My love must remain silent 
Never to ask for a kiss. 

Like the lonely mountain pine 
Whose bark is marred by moss, 
I remain alone and sad 
For the love that I have lost. 

Dillon Williams 







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